The Third of October
We will take you back from war
and its three a.m. anxieties,
the soldiers with beards and lighted
eyes. We’ll make them forget
for once they’re famous, give you
back the shifting inner world,
let you tread worn rugs at nightfall,
carrying assam into quiet rooms.
We will cover you with an old jacket,
and make slippers from bits of clothing,
to walk you finally out across the wet grass
beneath the islands of cypress tops.
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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 47 | Spring 2016